If You Want Me, Satisfy Me
by Paitlyn5evr
Summary: Shayntaire
1. Chapter 1

Shayne first met Grantaire at a bar, stinking drunk. He'd finally been dumped by his third girlfriend, Galinda. He rarely had girlfriends- passing amusements, yes, friends with benefits, sure. Girlfriends? Rarely. And Galinda dumped him.

He couldn't blame her, really, not with his reputation. But like the typical heartbroken Shayne he was, he'd gone drinking himself into an oblivion at a new place called the Corinthe- new to him, for her rarely ventured far away from hometown bars- and that's where he met Grantaire.

The two hit it off instantly. Drinking contests took place- Shayne won the shots of vodka, but Grantaire reclaimed his drunkard's glory in shots of absinthe, beers were bought, and Shayne ended up towing Grantaire home, both singing loudly and badly, but neither quite sure what it was they were singing.

Shayne awoke in his own home with a pounding headache, but he hardly had any regrets. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

~ ;) ~

It was only a matter of nights out before Shayne had been introduced to Courfeyrac, a particularly well dressed man with a bright personality who didn't drink quite as much, but was equally a pleasure to be around. He tended to branch off into discussions of politics, which led to the discovery of the group both he and Grantaire were a part of, cleverly named the ABC. Courfeyrac invited him to their next meeting, to which Shayne agreed, and despite the dull buzz in his head from the absinthe he'd had thus far, he couldn't help distinctly remembering the pleased smile on Grantaire's face later on.

When Monday rolled around, Shayne was mildly surprised, but happily so, to find Grantaire at his doorstep. At this point he'd moved out and away from his brother, Prince Fiyero, who was on the verge of becoming king, and had bought a flat only a few blocks from the Corinthe. He opened his door a little further and ushered Grantaire inside, turning to him.

Grantaire ran a hand through his already well disheveled hair. "We don't start for another fifteen minutes… hell, I just wanted to see you."

Without warning, a particular memory flashed through his mind. It was of his sophomore year at Shiz University, at an upper classmen party with Avaric Tenmeadows, his brother's least favorite person on the planet. Everyone was drunk beyond comprehension, and somehow he and Avaric had ended up making out in the older boy's bedroom. Thankfully Avaric's girlfriend, Milla, had interrupted them, but at the time he had become a pouty mess. It had been the only time he'd ever kissed a boy, and honestly, he had tried to block the memory. Avaric had decidedly never talked to him again.

It was in that moment that he realized just how attached to Grantaire he'd gotten. Not as a passing amusement, no, and never as just a friend with benefits. What he felt was something real, something with a definite hold on his life, but he didn't name it. To name it would be to taint it, to make it trivial and fleeting and something that could be taken away.

It could _easily_ be taken away. If Grantaire didn't feel the same way, he could ruin everything they'd become. They were, undeniably, a thing. A package deal. When Shayne was away from home, so was Grantaire. If one was drunk, so was the other. The two were attached at the hip, despite only being in each other's company for a fleeting two weeks, and to break that consistency would break his heart.

"Everything alright?" Grantaire's voice roused him from his thoughts, and he nodded, paused, and nodded again as if to reassure his own self.

"Just thinking," he replied with a crooked half smile, exactly the brand girls swore melted their hearts, and from the pause and faint pink color Grantaire had turned, he had to assume that they meant it.

Face still innocently flushed, he stepped forward and clapped Shayne on the shoulder. "Shall we?"

His crooked smile gave way for a grin. "I believe we shall."

~ ;) ~

Grantaire and Courfeyrac hadn't lied about the general welcome-ness and cheerfulness of the ABC. They all shared similar ideals about raising up the abaissé; the depraved, those who lived on the streets with no way to earn a living.

Admittedly, throughout the meeting, he was the slightest bit distracted by a comment a man named Combeferre had made- that at their last meeting on Friday, Grantaire wouldn't shut up about him- and by the looks of it, he who couldn't shut up was rather speechless as well.

A man named Enjolras spoke that evening, with the occasional interjections from the rest of the ABC, which he gracefully took in stride and branched off on. Shayne had to admit, for a bunch of college boys, the held together a strong group with truly revolutionary ideals, and from the way he watched Grantaire take it all in, he could tell that he was proud of them.

Later on he found himself talking to Enjolras himself, with Grantaire standing by, a grin plastered to his face. He was a bright man, clearly charismatic and fully capable of keeping the group in line. He hadn't noticed Courfeyrac behind him until he had apparently taken a look at Grantaire and decided to announce, "Why, Grantaire, you're absolutely twitter pated!"

Shayne turned his gaze to Grantaire, who was mildly flushed and chuckling to blow off the comment, but their eyes met and he caught the gleam Courfeyrac must have noticed in them, and suddenly he was filled with enough confidence to take hold of his arm and pull him aside, running a hand through his hair to calm himself. This sudden burst of adrenaline, this newfound confidence, had him jumping at the chance to make a move, but he wouldn't move too fast. He couldn't.

"We could go to my place."

Grantaire chuckled uneasily, and for a moment Shayne feared he'd read him completely wrong. "I've heard worse ideas." A teasing smirk played at his lips, and Shayne let out a breath he'd only just realized he'd been holding. He slid his arm around Grantaire's shoulders, giving him a little squeeze, and led him off into the night.

Here goes. "Twitter pated, huh?"

The comment earned another chuckle from Grantaire, who playfully nudged his shoulder with his head, which got Shayne's heart fluttering against his will. "If you're lucky."

"God damn," he murmured, nudging Grantaire's head back with his own. "Here's hoping."

"Mmm…" He fell silent, and for the remainder of the walk they communicated in nudges and smiles. It wasn't until they got to Shayne's door and he was forced to let go of him to unlock it that Grantaire responded. "You mean that?"

A pause. Shayne cast a final glance at Grantaire before pushing the door open and nodding. "Yeah, I do."

Neither spoke. Shayne hesitated, but took the initiative to pull Grantaire inside, shutting the door behind him. They managed to hold eye contact through the sudden silence, and Shayne could've sworn he was going mad until Grantaire finally broke it.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he managed quietly. "You're killing me, here."

Shayne's eyes softened and he took a step toward him, lifting a hand to trace his jaw. "I'm just… scared. I don't want to ruin us." He paused, eyebrows furrowing. "I can't lose you."

"Like hell you'd lose me," Grantaire muttered, moving a hand to cover Shayne's on his jaw. His breath caught at the contact, his heart began to thud quickly in his chest. In one step he backed Grantaire against the wall, bumping his forehead against his carefully.

He paused, looking Grantaire in the eyes, searching his for any sign of reluctance, of discomfort, despite what he'd said. "You…"

Without warning Grantaire flipped them around, pinning him to the wall and planting his lips firmly on Shayne's. He froze up in surprise, in fear, in a sheer, indescribably happy sort of feeling, but before Grantaire could pull away and ask what was wrong he returned the kiss fervently, fisting a hand in his hair. He felt Grantaire's arms wrap around his torso, pulling him flush against him. He was helpless to resist this. He didn't _want_ to resist this.

Grantaire stepped back, but he followed, reluctant to break contact anytime soon. He could feel him grinning against his lips, which his promptly broke away from, much to Shayne's dismay, who instead planted heated, open mouthed kisses up his jaw.

"Mmm…" He went slack for a moment, tightening his grip on Shayne. "Have you… Shayne… mm… have you ever…" His hands slid to his hips, gripping them and pulling them harder against his.

Shayne felt his face heat up, and he ducked his head into his neck, leaving less than innocent kisses there. "Not technically." He'd never gotten that far with Avaric, and the uncountable number of girls he'd slept with didn't count in the same way.

Grantaire slinked out of his grip, earning a pathetic whimper from Shayne, who pouted profusely at this. "I'll teach you, shall I?" he said innocently, despite the husky tone not gone from his voice. He sauntered off, casually opening Shayne's bedroom door with a wicked smirk.

With a low, promising growl, Shayne darted after him.

~ ;) ~

"So, you've done this before?"

He knew it was some ungodly hour in the morning by now, but Shayne was finding sleep the slightest bit unreachable, now that he knew how Grantaire felt, now that he was laying beside him, arms and legs tangled with his amid the bed sheets. His eyes were closed, but a smile played at his lips and he continued to respond, so Shayne continued to talk with him.

"No," he answered, shifting a little to bury his face in the crook of Shayne's neck. "But you tend to hear things from shameless men such as Courfeyrac."

He chuckled at this, but only briefly, because he could feel Grantaire's lips on his skin, trailing kisses up his neck, and he found coherent speech a tad difficult- undoubtedly the intent behind the action. He left kisses all the way to the corner of his lips, which had Shayne pouting until he gave up and kissed him, coaxing the pout into a smile.

He broke his lips away, leaning his forehead on Grantaire's. "Where does this leave us?" he ventured quietly, tilting his head to nuzzle his jaw.

Grantaire paused, rolling them over and hovering over him. "I'd like to think there _is_ an us." Again Shayne's heart fluttered.

"Almost certainly."

He laughed, pressing his lips firmly against Shayne's and murmuring jokingly, "Almost, huh?"

With a grin, Shayne flipped them over, kissing him heavily, and the laughter died out. He marveled in the effect Grantaire had on him, and vice versa, how one little kiss could instantly shut him up, one little touch could leave him whimpering pathetically and calling him a tease. A blissful quiet filled the room, and Shayne was content to press kisses everywhere he could reach until Grantaire caught his lips, and over again, filling the silence with purpose.

It had been so long since Shayne had felt so at ease. It was as if the world were finally balanced. His world certainly was, now that he had this man, this wonderful, comical, perfect man to set him right- perfect for him. He'd always been regarded as a player, a player who hadn't the slightest chance of settling down, or being happy settled down. And yet all of a sudden, here he was, feeling ridiculous, mushy things without the slightest ounce of regret, or any intentions of going back from that.

"Will Courfeyrac flip?"

Grantaire chuckled, shifting onto his side and pulling Shayne with him. "Yes, I'm afraid our dear matchmaker, Courfeyrac, will flip."

A pause. "You really want there to be an us?"

He became suddenly serious, rolling Shayne back under him, hovering there with a newfound intense firmness of belief. "Clearly I've not done my job convincing you that I am very, very deeply in love with you, and want more than anything for there to be an us."

Shayne practically flung himself up at him, sending them both toppling over into the sheets and kissing him for all he was worth.

"I love you, too, but I'm all for further convincing."

Grantaire had to laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

The letter had come in that morning- a letter from his mother requesting that he visit home soon. She'd filled him in on all the goings on within the family, and how everyone missed him, which made him snort, for he highly doubted Fiyero was capable of that.

But his mother's intent, and her plea of "come home, Shayne" stuck, and with a sigh he scribbled a response and mailed it home. He'd return within the week or so, but not alone. He wasn't about to be cornered by Fiyero for leaving home and joining an "uncouth group of rebels," for what a disgrace to the family he was- though the latter might occur all the same, for new reasons.

He had some things to break to Grantaire.

~ ;) ~

Shayne walked the familiar distance to Grantaire's flat much quicker than usual, fists shoved into his pockets. He wasn't nervous, or so he had convinced himself. He wasn't ashamed. He was simply eager to get the discussion of his birthright out of the way.

He knocked on Grantaire's door, suddenly jumpy and yearning for the familiar scruffy face he loved to set him at ease. Grantaire, his… friend? Hardly fair to either of them. Lover? Often. Boyfriend? ... They had made nothing official, or at least formally so, but he couldn't help referring to him mentally in such a way.

The moment Grantaire opened the door, his lips spread into a bright smile. "Hey."

"Hey." He reached for Shayne's hand, interlacing their fingers and pulling him inside. The flat was now familiar to him, in its Grantaire-esque, disheveled way. Even more so was his bedroom.

He shut the door behind him, making his way over to the couch with Shayne in tow. "And what brings you here today?"

"Mmm… you do." He grinned, grabbing Grantaire by the waist and pulling him in for a long kiss. He couldn't help but get carried away, not with Grantaire's hands winding through his hair, his body pressed up against his own, so he let the kiss drag on a blissful few minutes. Eventually he pulled away for air, and the purpose of his visit. "I wanted to talk to you."

Grantaire nodded, pulling him over to the couch and sitting down, clasping Shayne's hands in his. "What's up?"

He paused, eyes fixated on their hands. "It's about… well; you know I'm not from around here." He felt Grantaire's fingers brush against the blue diamonds trailing down his neck and smiled at the contact. "They mean something, you know."

"Do they?"

He nodded, lifting a hand to cover Grantaire's on his neck. "They're… this is going to sound barbaric no matter how I put it. They're sort of sacred where I'm from. Honorary markings."

He lifted his gaze to look at Grantaire, whose head was cocked to the side curiously. "How so?"

With a sigh he pulled Grantaire over to him, burying his face in his neck and cutting to the chase. "I'm kind of sort of… a prince of a land called the Vinkus."

He could feel Grantaire tense up, whether in shock or disbelief he couldn't tell, and he kept his face hidden, letting his words sink in. He knew he certainly didn't seem the royal type, and yet, here they were. _Surprise, I'm royalty_.

After a moment, Grantaire ducked his head a little, shifting to meet his gaze. "… I can't say I was expecting this," he said finally. "Doesn't change how I feel about you, if that's what you were worried about."

At this Shayne's lips twitched into a smile, and he leaned over and kissed him, which, like all of their kisses, quickly got carried away, and ended up with Grantaire pushing him back onto the couch, hovering over him. He broke into a goofy grin. "You don't seem the type."

Shayne laughed, leaning up indignantly and kissing him again to shut him up, and easily accomplished that goal. He flipped them over, lips wandering from Grantaire's and trailing down his neck. "'Least I'm not old enough to have any claim on the throne. That's all for my brother. I…" He trailed off momentarily to graze his teeth below his ear, "have much better things to do with my time."

Grantaire shuddered. "Do I want to know what brought this on?"

He lifted his head to meet his gaze, hesitating a moment before responding. "… I'm visiting home next week."

"… Oh?"

Sighing, he leaned his forehead on Grantaire's, looking him in the eyes pleadingly. "I want them to know about you."

He could see the reluctance in his eyes, the worry that to do so would cause more harm than good, but after a few moments of agonizing silence he gave a little nod, leaning up and kissing him. "I love you."

A grin tugged at Shayne's lips. "I love you, too."

~ ;) ~

They left for the Vinkus the following Sunday, and by that evening had arrived at Kiamo Ko. He could tell that Grantaire was impressed by the size and grandeur of the castle, which strangely satisfied him- strangely because he'd never really liked it there.

Such was the grand effect Grantaire had on his life.

The servant who answered the door led them inside, whisking their bags away and leaving the two in the parlor, face to face with Queen Raina Tiggular, who promptly leaped over and hugged Shayne for all he was worth. "I told them you'd come," she murmured excitedly. "Oh, I've missed you."

Shayne and his mother had been quite the dynamic duo as he grew up. When he and Fiyero got into little boyish fights, he'd always run to his mother crying, "Mommy, mommy, Yero's being mean!" while the older boy in question stood back grumbling to his father. He was his mother's son, and went to her with everything on his mind. He really was glad to be home, if only for her sake.

"And you must be Grantaire," she said kindly, once she'd actually let go of Shayne, though her gleeful beam had yet to wear off. "It's good to meet you. Shayne's told me much about you."

"Has he?" He sent a sideways glance at Shayne, who shrugged sheepishly. They'd agreed to at least attempt to not act so much like a couple until Shayne was confident enough to break it to them, but all the good things he'd said in the letter regarding him were true- he merely left out that he loved him a little more than he let on. "Well, I'd certainly hope it was nothing bad."

She laughed, a light, happy sound, and Shayne sighed. He loved his mother. He really had missed her- visiting had simply reminded him just how much the missing went.

His father was also in the room, but he knew his wife and had let her fuss over Shayne first before stepping up and clapping his son's shoulder. "We're glad you're home."

His mother latched onto his arm, giving him a little squeeze, and he sighed happily. He looked over at Grantaire, who was merely watching, grinning at them in awe.

Fiyero was nowhere to be found, but that was just as well.

~ ;) ~

But he did live there too, and he was harshly reminded of that fact later that night. It was after dinner, and everyone was off to bed- everyone except Shayne, or so he hoped as he wandered the hallways of Kiamo Ko wistfully. Remnants of his childhood, his teenage years, and memories from that last year he'd spent here after dropping out of Shiz before he moved to Paris, everything was achingly familiar. He ran his fingers along the ornate wooden railing of the staircase leading to the bedrooms, sighing.

"Shayne."

He froze immediately, and it took him a minute to spin around. He knew that voice. It was Fiyero.

"… Yes?"

His older brother stood a few feet from the staircase, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. "What the hell were you thinking, just up and moving out, huh?"

"Fiyero, I-"

"You _crushed_ mom," he spat, stepping closer. "She loves you, Shayne, and you just left. What the hell?! Don't you ever think about anyone but yourself? And I expected a lot more from you, you're always running to her when you don't get your way-"

"When I don't get my _way_?" he growled, darting down the staircase angrily. "When _you_ start a fight! When _you_ start yelling at _me_!"

"Poor baby!" Fiyero shouted, teeth gritting together. He sighed, averting his gaze momentarily and attempting to calm down. "… And what's this with your little friend?"

He froze. He didn't know. He couldn't know, not yet. "What about Grantaire? You're bringing him into this, too? Haven't you done enough?"

"You think you _love_ him."

Shit. _Shit_. His whole body tensed, his heart pounding in panic, in fear. "He's my best friend," he attempted weakly, but in vain. "Fiyero-"

"Don't," he hissed. "You think you're in love with that guy. I'm not as blind as dad is, or mom, for that matter. Mom thinks you can do no wrong and dad just doesn't care. But you're the one ruining our reputation, and they won't admit it, but they _know_ it."

He could feel his face heating up, the angry tears forming in his eyes threatening to well over. He wanted to hit him. He wanted to scream at him. He wanted to be _anywhere_ but there. He thanked his suddenly lucky stars that Grantaire was off in his room, and prayed he couldn't hear. It was agonizing enough for himself to hear it, from his own brother, but Grantaire? No. That would just be a stab to the heart.

When the tears started falling, he wasn't angry. He was hurt. His chest throbbed and he stumbled backwards, staring at Fiyero in pain, utter _pain_. Regret flashed across his brother's face, but he didn't speak, and neither did Shayne. He screwed up his face to try and keep the damned tears back, but they kept falling and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

Fiyero would never approve of him. What was he expecting? Everything he ever did was wrong, the drinking, the failing grades, moving out, and this, his sexuality, was just icing on the cake.

He brushed past Fiyero, running a hand through his hair and gritting his teeth together to keep from sounding like he was crying as hard as he was. He didn't say a word. Didn't make a sound. And Fiyero didn't stop him.

~ ;) ~

He found himself in the doorway of the parlor minutes later, just sort of hovering uncertainly. His mother was inside, sitting in a giant chair with a book in her lap. It took her a few moments to notice him and look up, first smiling, but once noting the tear streaks, caused by tears that were still flowing freely, her eyebrows furrowed in pain. "Shayne?"

He stumbled inside slowly, keeping his eyes on the floor. The world was a blur, a painful, hardly bearable blur. Everything was foggy and in slow motion.

_You're the one ruining our reputation, and they won't admit it, but they know it._

His mother stood, setting the book aside and rushing over to him to embrace him tightly. "Oh, Shayne, tell me what happened. You can tell me."

But he didn't say a word, instead wrapping his arms around her tightly and sobbing brokenly into her shoulder. She let him, rubbing his back and shh-ing him, trying to get him to calm down. She pulled him over to the couch, sitting down with him, and even then he continued to cling desperately. "Shayne, what happened?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, hiding his face in her shoulder still. "Fiyero," was all he said, and honestly all he had to say for her to understand, but after a moment of trying to breathe mostly evenly, he continued. "… Said I was a disgrace… bad mouthed Grantaire…"

She lifted his head suddenly, cupping his face with both hands. "Shayne Tiggular, you listen to me. You are not a disgrace. You were never a disgrace. I'll talk to Fiyero, alright? You are _not_ a disgrace, do you hear?" He nodded weakly, and she managed a smile, kissing his forehead. "We love you very much. I know Fiyero doesn't tend to act like it, but he missed you, too. You know how he is."

He managed another small nod, but he dropped his gaze, eyebrows furrowing. "… Mom?"

"Yes?" He didn't respond, hesitating, a fearful glint in his still tear filled eyes. She frowned, scooting closer to him and stroking his hair. "Shayne, what is it?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, sighing. "… He said that I thought I was in love with Grantaire, too."

Silence. He immediately regretted bringing it up, but she continued to stroke his hair, though not saying anything for quite some time. She kissed his forehead again. "Shayne, look at me." It took him a moment of deep breaths, but he did so. She was smiling. "I know. I know you too well to not have noticed the way you look at him, the way you talked about him in your letter… I left some parts out when I read it to your father, so he doesn't know." She giggled, tapping his nose. "But that doesn't make you a disgrace, and I don't love you any less for it. If that's how you are, then that's how you are. Case closed."

He watched her for a long moment, eyes wide in amazement at this woman, his mother. His mother accepted him. His mother loved him. All that worrying, putting this discussion aside, and fear was for naught. It wasn't long before he cracked a weak smile, moving to hug her again. "I love you, mom."

"I love you, too, Shayne." She gave him a little squeeze before letting him go and ruffling his hair playfully. "Now go to bed, it's nearly midnight!" But the light in her eyes had other implications, and with a grin he leaped up and rushed out of the parlor, tossing a, "Thank you!" over his shoulder, and set out for Grantaire's bedroom.

~ ;) ~

He slinked into the bedroom mostly quietly, earning an "mmph?" from Grantaire as he shut the door. Grinning, he stepped over to his bed quietly, sneaking in under the covers and immediately curling up against him.

"Mmm… what're you doing here?" Grantaire murmured sleepily, rolling over and wrapping his arms around him.

He brushed his thumb against Grantaire's cheek, still smiling faintly. "Mom knew about us the whole time," he said, leaning his forehead on his. "She's cool with it."

"Who was yelling?"

Shayne sighed. So he _had_ heard them. "Who do you think?"

A pause. Grantaire tightened his arms around him, pressing his lips against his firmly, to which Shayne complied very willingly. But unlike many kisses, it remained just a kiss, faint butterfly touches, bodies barely touching. He broke away slowly, but Shayne, being himself, moved to trail kisses across his jaw, which earned a chuckle from him. "I love you."

He kissed back to his lips after a moment, smiling into the kiss. "I love you, too."

Grantaire grinned, moving to bury his face in his neck. "Think you can behave enough to stay with me tonight?"

He sighed dramatically, the smile not yet gone. "I can try."

~ ;) ~

The next morning, Shayne sneaked out of Grantaire's room to return to his and get dressed. He stayed close to the wall opposite the railings that opened up beyond the staircase and revealed the hallway below, praying anyone that wasn't his mother wouldn't see him.

But his luck had diminished since the night before, and it was Fiyero who had started down the staircase and to the dining room for breakfast when Shayne left Grantaire's room, and it was Fiyero who was staring up at him as he hurried to his room. The two locked gazes for a moment. Fiyero's face was blank, unreadable- Shayne, on the other hand, felt the pang of knowing he would never be worth anything to his brother in his chest, and with that twisted look of pain on his face, slinked into his bedroom and locked the door.

He ventured out a good half an hour later, not exactly eager to face his brother again, so he took his time in walking to the dining hall. There he saw his mother seated beside Grantaire, in some deep, secretive conversation, and both grinned when he entered the room. His father nodded. Fiyero kept his eyes to the table, a look Shayne couldn't place taking over his features. He took his seat beside Grantaire, almost expecting a glare or some other disapproving look from Fiyero, but instead, he simply lifted his eyes to look at him.

"So you and Grantaire, huh?"

His eyes widened at how casually his brother had made the statement, but Grantaire reached for his hand under the table and squeezed it gently, so he was able to nod. "Yeah."As if he hadn't noticed before.

But Fiyero just managed a wan smile, glancing between Shayne and the table a few times. "Well, I'm happy for you."

Grantaire laced their fingers together, and it was as if he knew that Shayne would explode if he couldn't keep contact with him right now. His eyes were still wide with shock, his lips playing at some sort of lopsided, confused, but no less pleased grin. _I'm happy for you._ He had _never_ heard those words in that order from Fiyero, nor had he expected to. And yet, here they were.

He had Fiyero's approval. Near eighteen years too late, but he had it, and his heart seemed to swell up at the thought. It wasn't as if he especially needed his approval. But approval was something he'd never been given from Fiyero, not as a child, not as a teenager, and certainly not when he dropped out of Shiz and moved out. No matter what he did, Fiyero scoffed at him, called him out on his failures, and everything was for nothing. And now this.

His mother shot him a knowing smile, almost as if to say, _I told you so_.

Grinning still, he leaned his head on Grantaire's shoulder. Maybe peace could still be found within Kiamo Ko, even now.


	3. Chapter 3

He'd die without Grantaire. It was that simple. Grantaire was his salvation, his light, his logic, his sanity. He was truly his better half.

And he loved Grantaire.

Too often he would come home and call up Grantaire because he'd gotten in another fight with Fiyero, which was the main source of his stress, or some drunks at a bar had made a pass at him, or another school had rejected him, or maybe he was just slipping into another phase of drunken, nicotine induced depression.

Grantaire would be at his apartment in minutes. He'd open the door and there he was, dark, curly hair disheveled from sleep or lack of care as to what it looked like, blue eyes boring into his with a look of concern, lips twitched into a worried half smile, hands shoved in his jacket pockets.

He'd let Grantaire in and shut the door, lean his back against it, and watch him. Sometimes Grantaire would open his arms and he'd rush into them, just let Grantaire hold him and tell him that it was okay, that he was okay, that he loved him, over and over. Sometimes they would kiss; their kisses were polar opposites, either frantic and passionate or slow and gentle. Sometimes he was just a little too rough with Grantaire, but then again, he never complained.

Sometimes their kisses led straight to the bedroom. Sometimes he let Grantaire take control, let Grantaire take care of him. Sometimes he took that control himself, and those were always wild nights.

Sometimes they would just lay there in silence, and he would just let Grantaire hold him, keep his arms tight around him, tangle their legs together, weave his fingers through his hair. Sometimes, as they would lie there, he'd tilt his head upward to look at Grantaire, and he'd lean up to kiss him. Those kisses were his favorite by far. They were slow, gentle, meaningful, passionate, and all at once. They overwhelmed him peacefully, they left him stricken with emotion, and he couldn't get enough of those moments. Sometimes he cried. Sometimes they would remain like this for hours, alternating between cuddling and kissing, reveling and experiencing.

No matter where they ended up, sometimes he would try and count how many times they said "I love you."

He always lost count.


End file.
